


The Bargain

by gilligankane



Category: Guiding Light
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just kiss me,” you almost plead, because if she kisses you then it’ll mean something. And for a moment, she can; so she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bargain

_He gave me that night back and this time, I told you the truth. We talked and held each other till the sun came up. And as I went to hell, the devil asked me if it was worth it. I said yes. Yes it was._

_-pleasefindthis_

You don’t think twice about the offer; you take it and run with it and pray that the memory will last a lifetime – or rather, an  _after_ lifetime.

It’s more of a dream sequence then you thought it would be, because there’s a moment where your eyes are clouded and the world is kind of blurry at the edges and then it all spins into focus and leaves you blinking stardust out of your eyes, standing in a bedroom you almost don’t remember.

Your feet almost go out from under you, because you almost forgot that you had too much to drink that night, but then you steady and Natalia is standing in the doorway, smiling softly at you.

And  _God_ , she looks good.

“Hi,” she says, smiling at you, holding a glass of sparkling water in her outstretched hand.

Your eyes feel heavy with alcohol and secrets and thoughts you’ll never express.

“Thought you might want to take a little rest,” she explains, and you’ve been here before, but the slight rise in her voice on the word  _rest_  still manages to make your heart skip a beat.

And still, you can’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth the way your tears are familiar with falling out of your eyes these days – or,  _those_ days. “ _Excuse_  me?”

“Just a little sparkling water; it’s got bubbles too,” she finishes sheepishly.

“Am I  _embarrassing_  you?”

She freezes and her smile fades a little; the sparkle in her eye drops out until there’s nothing but black onyx. “I didn’t say that.”

But you’re pushing it. “Am I?”

“No. Well not yet. I mean, your daughter’s here, and all of our friends and I don’t want you to say or do anything you might regret.”

“Oh,” you pause. The pressure builds behind your eyes. “You know who you sound like? You sound like somebody’s wife, but you’re not mine,” and you blame the bitter sound of your voice and your throat tightening on the champagne. “You’ve got a hubby-to-be downstairs that you can boss around, okay? Just, I call the shots in my own life, got it?”

Her face goes stony. “I got it,” she says pointedly, moving out of the threshold back towards the stairs, back towards the man she’s leaving you for.

“Wait.” She turns back around, but doesn’t say anything. “Wait.”

But instead of her coming to you, you’re going to her. Your champagne glass stays on the dresser and her sparkling water is hovering between you as you get closer and closer until one of your hands is sliding around the back of her neck. It’s sliding right past the clasp of the necklace she’s wearing – _your_  necklace – and gripping tight, fine hairs that feel like silk caught under your fingers.

“Olivia,” she whispers, not pulling away. “You can’t.”

But you  _can_ , because you made a deal; you made a deal with the devil at the crossroads and you’re guaranteed your one moment and here it is.

You can, so you do.

And it’s exactly like you thought it would be: sweet and soft and warm and her lips kind of cling to yours when you start to pull in a way that makes you want to stay right there, with your hand behind her head and your mouth pressed to hers.

You can, so you do.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat and it spurs you on so that your other hand comes up and presses into the silky skin of her cheek and she does it again, that noise, as you push more forcefully against her mouth. She makes that noise that you’re going to remember for the rest of your life and your tongue pushes past your lips and her lips and finds hers and  _Jesus Christ_ , spending the rest of your life in hell was worth it; worth this.

“Olivia,” she pants, pulling back, but keeping her forehead pressed against, breathing the same air as you. “Olivia…”

“I know,” you whisper back, even if you’re not sure what she was saying; even if you  _don’t_  know. “I know, just…”

She tries again. “Olivia.”

“Just kiss me,” you almost plead, because if  _she_  kisses  _you_  then it’ll mean something.

And for a moment, she can; so she does.

The glass of water crashes to the floor, sparkling water and sparkling glass scattering across your feet but her mouth takes the sting out and swallows the gasp and her hands are winding around the fabric of your dress, fingers pressing into your hips and your waist. She pushes you back, out of the doorway, until the small of your back is against the dresser, then she spins you so that you’re against the bed and you yield to the pressure; knees bend until you’re sitting and then you’re pulling her with you against the mattress, pulling her against your dress.

“Olivia…”

There are tears in your eyes, because you should have promised  _him_  more; should have given him more so that you could stay in this moment longer. But you hide them, with your face in her shoulder, peppering her bare skin from where you’ve pushed back her sweater and she’s just standing there in between your knees. “Just tell me you love me,” you beg.

She lifts your chin with her hand and looks into your eyes and just stares at you with her sad dimples, the ones you want to make go away for the rest of your life; the sad dimples that hit you in the gut every time.

“I love you,” she whispers, dipping her head down to catch your mouth and your tears in her mouth. “I love you so much,” she finishes.

“I love you too,” you promise, kissing her hard one last time.

You blink.

He stares at you, all of the red you imagined and less of the horns and he smiles; it’s foul and hideous and makes you want to pull back, close your eyes and think of dimples and sparkles and the way her lips fit perfectly against yours.

“So,” he drawls, his voice raspy and heavy and coated with whiskey. “Worth it kid?”

You close your eyes and you  _swear_  you can almost feel her hands sliding up your ribcage and her fingers dipping behind the curve of your neck and her lips caught between your teeth. You can  _feel_  her breath across your mouth and her hips pressed against yours. You open your eyes and nod, trying not to shake.

You nod and can’t pull your open eyes away from where she’s standing, Frank’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and his other hand caught between the two hands of their little boy, Rafe laughing as his little brother tries to throw a baseball farther than ten feet. You nod and try not to shake as Rick hustles by and asks you if you’d like another hamburger and if you’re going to stick around for the fireworks this year and she looks up and catches your eyes; smiles.

“Yeah, it was.”

The Devil smiles and nods like he knew that was going to be your answer all along.

“Well then,” he says, I’ll be seeing you.”

He winks; maybe you’ll be seeing him sooner than you think.


End file.
